


Grass-Stains

by Tat_Tat



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A picnic, tossed aside in favor of pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grass-Stains

Under a shaded tree, the picnic basket is tossed on its side, cucumber sandwiches jutting out onto the open lawn. Fine china, only the best, is set precariously on the edge of the hill, the warm Darjeeling ignored.

All that’s left on the checkered red and white picnic blanket is Ciel and Elizabeth. The young master is atop her body, left hand cradling her head, as he thrusts into her. Even with the touch of spontaneity, he is mindful of her comfort. Elizabeth’s hands are over her head, digging into the earth, her fists full of green grass. She moans softly, legs wrapped around his torso. 

There was a time when Ciel had too many reservations, when they could have picnics outside the manor and return without grass stains on their clothes. 

The restraint still remains, but his wife’s charms weaken it. No, his own perverse desires- growing into a man has weakened his reservations. He saw the nape of her neck, she drew her skirts up coquettishly, and twirled, and smiled. When she smiled, he unwound and kissed her hard, putting his hand up her skirts and the tulle under that. It was not his desire he was ashamed of: it was his impatience. 

He couldn’t wait, he didn’t want to wait, to hell with waiting. No one was here anyway except Sebastian (hiding). But again, no one else human was here.

Ciel grits his teeth and fumbles for a handkerchief. His eyes glaze, lids flutter, and he forces himself deeper into her. With a groan he comes, and hangs his head, panting. Quietly he reaches under her skirts again and holds the handkerchief against Elizabeth’s quim. He finds he needs another, she’s soaked it so.

By now the tea has cooled and the china has sprawled down the hill. The ants have made a feast of the cucumber sandwiches but neither makes a fuss about it. They hopelessly smile at it all.

(Besides, Ciel knows Sebastian is lurking in the shadows with a new picnic basket.)


End file.
